


Healing Wounds

by Morpheus626



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: A request from @ elliotslament on Tumblr “A fic where Darlene ends up getting shot in the shoulder and reader comforts Elliot?”Another little partial AU thing, with Darlene shot by an unknown assailant, and where else can she safely recover but with Elliot and Y/N?No major discussion of the actual wounding of Darlene, but I've rated it Mature just to be safe regardless!
Relationships: Elliot Alderson/Reader
Kudos: 7





	Healing Wounds

“Fuck,” Darlene mutters, and you try to pull the blanket up over her more. Your couch is hardly the best place for anyone to rest in general, let alone recover from a gunshot wound, but you want to make it as comfortable as you can. 

“I’m fine,” she scoffs, then softens. “Sorry. It hurts. They told me it would feel better with the meds, but-” 

“You took them two minutes ago,” Elliot interjects. 

“Thank you, Elliot, my most caring brother,” Darlene sighs sarcastically. “Any other medical advice you’d like to give me?” 

“Actually listen to the doctor and rest?” 

She pouts. “Fuck. That’s actually valid.” 

You smile weakly. “At least it wasn’t worse, and you shouldn’t be out of commission for too long?” 

“As long as it keeps healing okay,” Darlene says with a slightly nervous look to her still bandaged shoulder in its sling. “Did you hear the gnarly shit that could happen if it gets infected?” 

“I did,” you reply. “But we aren’t going to let that happen, so no need to worry about it.” 

“And physical therapy! Who the fuck needs that after being shot?!” 

“Probably more people than we realize,” you answer. “Especially for a shoulder injury. Lots of weird fiddly shit in your shoulder.” 

She smiles, and even Elliot, who until now has been a mask of fear and worry, laughs. 

“Is that the official medical terminology?” he asks.

“Very official,” you say seriously. “You don’t remember the doctor talking about it?” 

“Not in those exact terms,” Darlene giggles. “I’ll have to ask him at that stupid follow-up appointment they made me set up.” 

You give her a kind but despairing look, and she shakes her head dramatically. 

“I know, I know. It’s for my own good, and the good of my shoulder, or whatever. Just-” she interrupts herself with a yawn. “So much trouble over all this. And they don’t even know who shot me. How the fuck do you not know who shot someone?” 

She pauses, then nods. “Never mind. I just thought about like, how many cold cases exist. But seriously, even if it was some stray bullet or something...” 

She yawns again, and you help her cushion herself, handing her pillows that Elliot hands you (and as he does, you realize he doesn’t have that many, and he’s stolen the two pillows from his bed as his only ‘extras.’) 

“Rest, okay? We’re all going to get some sleep now,” you say, ignoring Elliot’s look to you. “After the day we’ve had, I think we all need it.” 

The meds are supposed to make Darlene tired, but you find yourself alarmed at how quickly she zonks out, and it’s hard to leave her be in the living room, even as Elliot gently tugs you to the bedroom.

You ball up the extra blanket you’ve essentially given to Elliot for as long as it’s been at his place, keeping it just long enough to serve as cushioning for both of your heads as you fall into bed with him. 

“Talk,” you prompt him. “I can tell you’re freaking out about all this.” 

“How are you not?” he asks. “She was just...standing there, and then she was down. We don’t know if they were even aiming for her, whoever it was, or if it was bad luck and a stray bullet. And if we hadn’t been there...” 

“Hey,” you say softly. “She’s okay. Sleeping, and probably going to be bitching a lot, but with good reason. Worst that’s gonna happen is she’ll want movie marathons with you while she’s recovering here, and is that all that bad?” 

“No,” he replies, but you can feel the tension he’s putting out so thick in the air you could cut it. 

“Hoodie off,” you declare, and he slips it off before laying down again, facing away from you so you have access to his back. It’s taken months for him to be that comfortable with you, and every time he lets himself be that vulnerable around you it makes you want to smile and weep with happiness all at once. “You need to get that tension out of your shoulders, or they’ll explode.” 

“More accurate medical information about the shoulder?” he muses. “I didn’t realize you were so learned on that body part.” 

“So learned,” you laugh as you start the massage, hands carefully working at his shoulders, upper back, and neck. “Went to medical school but they wouldn’t let me graduate, because I only wanted to talk about shoulder explosions.” 

“I know you didn’t go to medical school,” he says (and you know that, you know he hacked you the first day you met. But fair enough, because you did the same to him. As Darlene puts it, it is ‘creepily romantic.’) “But I trust your knowledge all the same.” 

“Good,” you say, pausing to quickly kiss the back of his neck. “Now, as I was saying. You’ve got to let me massage all that tension out or it collects.” 

He giggles, and it’s like a ray of light fills the room. 

“If it collects, then uh...your muscles start to bulge and stuff.” 

He laughs at that, a hand clapped over his mouth, and you know he’s afraid he’ll wake Darlene. 

“And if that happens...it’s bad. Real bad. Just pops like a balloon. Except it’s muscle and bone and stuff for confetti.” 

“Y/N, stop!”

This is one of the few ‘giggle fits’ you’ve ever seen him fall into, and you get off the bed while he curls up in his laughter to peek out briefly and make sure Darlene is A. still breathing and B. still sleeping, both of which she’s doing successfully. 

“What? I’m only trying to warn you of an incredibly serious medical condition. Shoulder...stress...balloonitis. Very dangerous, if left untreated.” 

He shakes his head, a wide smile on his face, and some of the stress and fear of the day drains away from you. 

“See? You’re going to be okay. Darlene is going to be okay. We’re all good. I promise,” you say. “No matter what happens next.” 

As if the universe has heard you, Darlene yelps, and you both run to the living room.

“Oh god,” she sighs, struggling to sit up on the couch.

“What is it, what hurts?” you fuss, looking for blood or any sign of further injury to her. 

She frowns. “What?” 

“You yelled!” 

“Oh, yeah, I dropped my water bottle and it rolled across the floor,” she says. “I can’t reach it, but I tried and it kinda hurt.”

You shake your head and chuckle. “Call for us next time, no need to be a hero.” 

Elliot nods as he retrieves it, only to pause and head to the kitchen to fill it up more. 

“I can handle a water bottle,” Darlene says with a roll of her eyes. “Usually, I mean.” 

“For now, let us wrangle it for you,” you say. “In case it escapes again. Just call for us, or text us even. We’re only a room over.” 

“I’m aware of that,” she smirks, and you blush. 

“We were being perfectly gentlemanly in there,” you say. “Only a shoulder massage going on, thank you very much.” 

“I heard that giggling,” Darlene smiled. “He doesn’t do that often, if at all. Do what you have to, if it makes that happen. It’s nice to hear him happy, even if he is an asshole that takes twenty minutes to get me more water!” 

He strides back over with a shake of his head. “Are you really dying of thirst that badly?” 

“Horribly,” she whispers, clutching at her throat with her available hand, flopping back on the couch dramatically. “Can’t you tell?” 

You bite back a laugh at the sibling antics. “Should we stay out here, perhaps? A movie, and all the water bottle wrangling you could ask for?” 

“I could work with that,” she says. “I’m not lonely out here, but I could do a movie.” 

“It’s hurting again?” Elliot asks, and by Darlene’s face, you can tell he’s right. 

But he doesn’t press the matter, and instead hands over a sheaf of DVDs to her, and you watch as they discuss movie choices and their varying degree of ‘good’ to ‘absolute shit, but watchable shit.’ It’s adorable, and you would never say it to either of them, because they’d undoubtedly roll their eyes, but it makes you happy to see. 

Happier still is the sight of them both asleep, half an hour into one of their favorites. Darlene with her face shoved into one of her many pillows, and Elliot with his head cricked back against the edge of the couch in a way that can’t be comfortable, his back straight against the bottom of the couch with more posture than you’ve ever seen him use any other time. 

It’s enough for you to finally close your eyes, the hardness of the floor no match for the exhaustion making itself known now that you’ve relaxed some. 

The thought that there might not be more answers by the next day is a haunting one, but the sound of their light snores pushes it away, and you sleep while the movie plays on. 


End file.
